Forever Constant
by Pelahnar
Summary: He'll always be there and she always has been. She doesn't age and neither does he. He never changes and neither does she. They are similar in so many ways - but what's more important is how they are different. Scenes from the lives of Jack and the fortune teller girl.
1. Chapter 1: 1869

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

**Chapter 1: 1869**

She was there when he arrived – she'd been able to feel him coming for a long time. Years, it seemed. Maybe the feeling had always been there, just gradually building until it had finally brought her here.

She didn't blink when a blue rimmed hole opened in the air, nor when it deposited the man onto the ground. Why should she be surprised, after all? It wasn't as though she hadn't been expecting something like that. No form of arrival that was considered 'normal' would have pulled her like it had. And anyway, if the way he had come was quite unconventional, the man himself was nothing less.

He was...different. That was the only word she could come up with that really fit. Different. He was _so_ different, but she couldn't put her finger on why. His clothes were wrong for this time period, yes, but that had nothing to do with it. By most people's standards, she supposed he was good-looking, but that wasn't it either. It had nothing to do with what he _looked_ like – or sounded like, or smelled like, or acted. The difference was in _him_, in his very being. That would never change.

The man stood, grimacing with pain and breathing heavily, and she shrank back into her shadowy alley. This was not the right time to be seen. He turned 'round in the street several times, probably trying to get his bearings. He never once glanced in her direction.

She turned to go. She didn't know what caused the difference in him. And, while she did _want_ to know, now was not the time to figure it out. She was sure to see him again, and _then_ she would try to learn exactly what was so different and what that difference would cause. No matter what, she knew she'd be able to find him, as soon as she decided to look. He would always be there.

He would _always_ be there.

**A/N: So, this is going to be a series of very, very short (100-1000 word) scenes involving Jack and the girl who told his fortune. I think this girl is supposed to be Faith - the original girl that was brought back by the Resurrection Gauntlet? Anyway, that's who she is for this story. And she will be referred to just as 'she' for pretty much the whole time, I think.**

**Shameless advertisement of self: I am currently writing a Doctor Who and Torchwood crossover, called _Becoming a Time Lady_. It's Jack/Jenny, and it's basically about them traveling together and having adventures and falling in love and Jenny coming into her powers as a Time Lady. Go read it if you're interested! Read! Review! Do I sound a bit desperate to you? Because I am.**

**Just so you're not confused as to why this is a crossover: up until Chapter 14, this story is pretty much all Torchwood, aside from some mentions of the Doctor. In fact, until I wrote Chapter 14, I actually had it in the Torchwood category. But then I decided that you should probably know both TV shows and changed it.**

**Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2: 1879

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

**Chapter 2: 1879**

As she'd expected, the man who was different was an easy man to locate, once she thought to look again.

She found him in a dark and dirty bar, drinking for hours and telling stories to the other patrons. While the seemed to be enjoying listening to them, he spoke morosely and she never saw him crack a smile, despite all the alcohol he was consuming. He looked worse off than he had when she first saw him. The years, it seemed, had not been kind to him.

Ten years. Ten years had passed since the blue hole had brought him to her. The time showed on him, yes, but in the dirt and blood that caked his skin, in the rips and tears in his clothing. Not in his face though. To look at his face, those ten years might as well have been ten days. She smiled.

Was that the difference, then? Did this man not age as others did? Surely that was too simple, the easy answer. And it brought questions along with it.

For one thing, how had it happened, and when? He had apparently aged for the first 35 years of his life or so and stopped there. So there must have been an event to halt him in the natural progression of life. But what?

The second question was more difficult to put to words. It didn't seem to her that a man who didn't age should seem so different from her. From everyone else, yes – but from her? He should have felt the same to her, or at least similar, familiar. Not so very different, as he did.

The different man suddenly began yelling at the people around him, and they were shouting back. They were all on their feet. She watched as the fight was broken up before it could progress from words to fists and the different man was thrown out of the bar.

She stayed where she was, hidden in a corner. The mystery of the different man could be solved later.

After all, he would _always_ be there.

**A/N: Don't forget to read _Becoming a Time Lady_! Because I know you want to. I can see it in your mind...*laughs spookily* In case you've forgotten, that's my Doctor Who/Torchwood crossover about the adventures of Jack and Jenny. And I'm going to give it a shoutout on every new chapter of this so...get used to it. :)**

**Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3: 1892

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood.**

**Chapter 3: 1892**

Another thirteen years passed before she saw the different man again, but the circumstances were remarkably similar. He was in a bar – looking the same as ever, in both appearance and age – drinking away what seemed to be the only money he had. And she, of course, had slipped into a corner, unnoticed by all.

Would he know? She wondered. If she allowed herself to be seen by him, would he be able to feel the resounding difference between them? Did he even now feel the difference between himself and those around him?

She thought he probably did, and they did as well, even if none of them realized that's what it was. It would certainly explain why he was, yet again, at odds with all the others.

This time, she tried to discern what they were arguing about, but many voice had been raised at once and she could catch only a word here and there. One was 'doctor', but before she could hear more, a gunshot broke through the din.

The different man keeled over, clutching his chest.

For a long, shocked moment, she could hear nothing but his labored breathing. Then, as he breathed his last, silence rang in her ears. She didn't understand. The different man _couldn't_ be dead! It just couldn't be!

Even before her shock had worn off, the others in the bar were laughing once more. Someone called for the body to be disposed of, and two men came to haul him away. Only when the door was almost closed behind them did she come to her senses. Hardly caring whether anyone noticed her, she darted out after them. Their raucous laughter, as they carried the different man down the street, made it an easy task for her to follow from far enough that they wouldn't see her.

The led her to the bay and it was there that they rid themselves of the body. Throwing murder victims into the water always made for an effective and simple grave. He would not be found for some time – if ever – and even once he was, there would be nothing to connect anyone to the murder.

After the men had left, she approached the place where they had thrown him. There was nothing left, of course, not even a ripple. But for some reason, she felt herself calming. The was not the end of the different man, she was sure.

Even now, she knew he would _always _be there.

**A/N: Once again, I urge you to go read my other story, _Becoming a Time Lady. _Told you I'd give it a shout-out every chapter, didn't I?**

**Jack said that the first time he died (after Satellite Five, that is) was Earth, 1892, Ellis Island. Well, I wrote this before I realized they Ellis Island part and had been assuming they were in Cardiff - but hey, Faith can travel if she wants, right? Besides, this doesn't _have_ to be the first time he died, it could be later that year and he's back in Europe. Anyway...**

**Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4: 1899

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood.**

**Chapter 4: 1899**

When, seven years later, she encountered the different man again, she was not surprised. Pleased, yes, that he had survived death by gunshot and subsequent drowning, but not surprised in the least.

'Survived' though, was a rather loose term, as, in this encounter, the man was still dead. Or rather, dead _again._ This time, it appeared he'd been killed by a broken bottle to the stomach. She winced slightly, at the blood.

As she watched, once more hidden in a dark space (now a small alcove in the alleyway) the different man came back to life. Or rather, was dragged back, though by what she couldn't imagine. All she knew was that it didn't look like he'd had any control over it. He returned to the land of the living as one who was drowning would return to the air – with a great gasp.

So focused was she on watching him, she didn't notice that he wasn't alone until he did. As he began talking to someone, she tore her eyes away to find out who. Two women – two _very_ mundane women, nothing different about them – were standing there, just watching him with expressions unchanging as he tried to explain away his resurrection. They weren't listening, though, and she saw one of the women step forward and coldly kill him again – this time by strangulation.

Once he was dead, the women took him away. She wasn't too worried. Though their intentions might not be good, they couldn't actually kill him and she felt sure that this was not the last time she was going to see him, despite whatever they _did_ do.

Because, after all, he would _always_ be there.

**A/N: Here's this chapter's shoutout for Becoming a Time Lady! Go read it!**

**Please review!**


	5. Chapter 5: 1899, a few days later

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood. I should also mention that I don't own the cover picture.**

**Chapter 5: 1899, a few days later**

It was time. She didn't know why, but after thirty years of watching and seeking and finding and thinking about the different man, it was finally time. Time to come out of the shadows. Time to actually meet him.

"Can I read your cards?"

He looked up at the sound of her voice and for the first time in all those decades, their eyes met.

Would he see her for who she really was? Or would he, like everyone else, see only a child, a little girl of twelve? She saw no change in his expression as he regarded her. No sign that he felt the way in which they were different – different, and yet, connected somehow in a way she had yet to figure out. Whatever it was, he didn't see it.

After only a moment, he declined her offer and went back to his drinks.

Or rather, he tried to. She wasn't about to take no for an answer and so sat down next to him without permission, throwing his mugs aside carelessly.

"No, really," he said, and she silenced him with a single glance. He made no more protests as she laid out the tarot cards.

She could see more in his cards than she'd ever seen in anyone else's. Future events flashed across her vision in a blur, though most of them she couldn't distinguish from the rest. The one she _could_ clearly see was the most important thing for him to know, right now, so she spoke. "He's coming, the one you're looking for."

Interesting. As she read the cards, she found that the one he was looking for was a great traveler, an ancient wanderer – a hero and a healer. Presumably, though, he did not need to be told that. His expression showed that he clearly knew to whom she was referring.

"The century will turn twice before you find each other," she finished and sat back in the chair.

The different man tried to laugh it off – as would most who heard such a prediction – and she felt the corners of her own lips twitch ever so slightly. Because she'd never heard him laugh before. Oh, he might've laughed in her presence at some point, but she hadn't been listening, if so.

Maybe it was her slight smile, maybe it was the fortune telling, or maybe it had just taken some time for him to feel the connection between them – but now, she knew, he _could_ feel it. His laughter died and his expression turned grim. "You mean I have to wait a hundred years to find him?" The different man asked hoarsely, picking up one of the cards. "What'll I do in the meantime?"

He was no longer denying the fortune. In fact, he seemed to have accepted it as truth. Of course, he'd already spent 30 years - 30 years that she knew of, anyway - without aging a day, so getting a fortune that assumed he would live another century wasn't too much of a stretch.

She had no answer to his question, so she said nothing. Not that he really seemed to expect her to reply. Suddenly, he appeared to reach a decision and stood. With barely a word of goodbye, he left, to where she didn't know. But it didn't matter, really, what he did in the meantime.

Because, as ever, he would _always_ be there.

**A/N: So, as a warning to anyone who is interested in reading more of this: if I don't get feedback for this chapter (as I haven't for the past three chapters) I just might not bother writing it any more. Because, see, I wrote these first five scenes in one go a few weeks ago. Now, I have no more scenes already written, so before posting again, I'll have to actually, you know, _write_ something. And I've lost confidence with this story due to the lack of reviews. If you don't tell me you want another chapter...well, you probably won't get one.**

**Shout-out for Becoming a Time Lady: Go read it!**

**Please review! (Please, please, please, please...do you know how long it's been since I last begged for reviews? A long, long time. Like, years.)**


	6. Chapter 6: 1900

_**Forever Constant**_

**Chapter 6: 1900**

While she had, as always, fully expected to see him again, she was a little surprised that he was the one to initiate their next meeting. And less than a full year after the last!

Assuming whatever had made him immortal had happened not long before she first saw him – and she was fairly certain it had – he _was_ a lot younger than she. And so, she supposed, he would be less patient, more curious. Not that she wasn't curious. She simply understood that there was no need for rushing these things.

She was sitting on a park bench, quietly reading when she felt his approach. "Who are you?" he asked, sitting down next to her. Not bothering with a greeting, she noticed. She didn't look up as she answered.

"I am no one."

"No one," he repeated flatly. "Well, that makes two of us."

"You are not no one, Captain," she said, still focused on the book. "Quite the opposite."

"How did you know -?"

He cut off abruptly as she finally raised her eyes. How did she know his rank? It was just something she knew because she needed to, as with her earlier fortune-telling. If he was going to accept the fortune, he might as well accept that she knew this, too.

The same thoughts seemed to be going through his head. Or, perhaps they _were_ his thoughts, mingling with her own. She didn't know, nor did she particularly care. The important part was that he understood.

After a short pause, he went on. "You must have a name, though."

"Must I? Why must I?"

She could almost feel the response building – that _everyone_ had a name. The answer, naturally, would be that as she was no one, she wasn't included in 'everyone'. But she had no need to give the answer, because he never gave the response. This time, she was nearly certain they were sharing thoughts.

For some time, they sat in silence, although it was not an uncomfortable silence, at least not as far as she was concerned.

"I have to go," he announced finally. She nodded once, accepting the statement. After a brief hesitation, he added, "Thank you."

These words surprised her as nothing else had for a long time. A _very_ long time. "For what?" she inquired, almost warily.

"The fortune," he answered. "I don't usually go for fortune-telling, but..." he trailed off. "Thanks."

The he stood up and walked away. She found herself smiling as she watched him leave, because she knew he'd be back one day. That wasn't something she could be sure of with anyone else.

It was nice to know that he would _always_ be there.

**A/N: Ok, so I was wrong about having trouble writing another chapter if no one reviewed. Fine. But I don't know how long I can keep this up, writing without encouragement, so...please? Just tell me you're interested?**

**Please review!**


	7. Chapter 7: 1907

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing that has to do with Torchwood.**

**Chapter 7: 1907**

"You haven't aged," he said, sitting down across the table. "You should be at least 20 by now, but you haven't aged a day."

She watched his expression carefully as he spoke. It wasn't really like he was asking a question, just making a casual observation. "You don't seem surprised," she told him when he'd finished.

"I'm not," he answered. "Actually, if it had turned out you really were as young as you look, _that_ might have surprised me."

Tilting her head slightly to one side, she asked. "And why is that?" She remembered feeling the same, when she had first seen that he was no older after ten years. She wondered if the reason was the same.

He didn't speak for a few seconds. "Because you...you're different. You're different and I don't know why."

She smiled, satisfied. It was exactly the answer she'd expected. "You don't age, either," she pointed out. "It's more than that, though, with you. You don't age – and you can't die."

He nodded slowly, "I can't. But why not?" She didn't answer, only shaking her head. Suddenly, he leaned forward conspiratorially. "Listen. Those cards of yours – I don't think they really tell the future." She started to protest, but he quickly went on. "I think what the really do is form a psychic medium between you and whoever you're reading them for. You probably don't know what that means - " She didn't, and was slightly disturbed that he might know more about her craft than she did. " – but I'm not going to try explaining it.

"However, if I'm right, then it means you should be able to use them to look into the past as easily as you do the future. More easily, even. So here's my question: What happened to me in the past? Why can't I die?" He finished and sat back again.

Intrigued, she took out her tarot cards. She'd never thought to use them to solve the mystery of the different man before. And no one had ever asked for information about the past, either. She wasn't sure how well it would work, but was quite willing to try it.

She laid the cards on the table carefully, focusing on finding the answer to his question in them. "You first died fighting an enemy of all the universe…" she said slowly, glancing up at him for confirmation, which he gave in the form of an impatient nod. "And then…it was the Bad Wolf. The Bad Wolf gave forever and took all else."

She fell silent and watched his reaction closely. "The Bad Wolf..." he mused quietly. "I might've known." After a few moments of thought, he added. "Is that all there is, then?"

She nodded.

"Well, it's something, anyway."

He left not long after that, but she stayed where she was for some time, thinking. She thought she knew, now, why he seemed so different from her. He was alive, so very much alive and always would be. The Bad Wolf had granted him eternal life – and eternal life had nothing to do with her, did it?

She wondered about this Bad Wolf. The cards had told her no more than the name. Whatever it was, though, she knew one thing for certain: it was the reason he would_ always _be there.

**A/N: So, I have a bit of a dilemma. I want them to meet about once a decade through the 20th century - no less than 10 times and no more than about 15 total. Unfortunately, I only have ideas for about 5 different meetings. So, you know what would be great? If you would leave suggestions for me in that review you're going to write! That would be really, really great. I'll give you a shout-out, if you do. **

**Speaking of shout-outs, thanks to IzzieJane for reviewing last chapter!**

**Please review!**


	8. Chapter 8: 1914

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I Own Nothing Torchwood-Related.**

**Chapter 8: 1914**

"Captain?"

He jumped at the sound of her voice, then relaxed when he saw her. "Oh, it's you again. I was worried you were...someone else."

Frowning, she crossed her arms and tried to figure out what was different about him – more different than usual, of course. He seemed tense, uncomfortable. And he almost seemed to be in hiding, sitting as he was, on the ground in a back alley. She had only been able to find him because she always could. "Who did you think I was?" she inquired.

He didn't say anything for a minute, just looked up at her. When he finally spoke, it was to ask a question of his own. "Why did you become a fortune-teller?"

She blinked, but answered slowly. "I do what I know, as does everyone. It's all we _can_ do."

"I suppose," he agreed. "But maybe what we know isn't always what we should be doing." Then, inexplicably, he started laughing. "Oh, God, now I sound like you. All cryptic and deep..." He trailed off, the laughter dying.

She watched him silently. Something had definitely changed about him over the past seven years, but she couldn't see what. That fact alone was worrying. Hesitantly – for the alley was not the cleanest place and sitting in it was not something she particularly wanted to do – she lowered herself into a kneeling position in front of him. "Captain, there's something bothering you and you're hiding it from me. Why?"

He looked confused. "You're asking why, not what? 'What' would be easier."

"Yes, but 'why' is more important."

He sighed. "Why would I hide something from you?" She nodded. "Well, why shouldn't I? It's not like I know you that well."

She didn't say anything, but she dropped her eyes from his. She didn't understand how he could say that; she felt like she'd know him for centuries, rather than decades. And she didn't really feel like the time she'd spent watching him had contributed much to that. She'd only been watching, after all.

But he was going on. "That is, I _shouldn't_ know you that well. Except I do. Or I feel like I do, which doesn't make any sense."

She looked up again, a small smile on her lips. So he _did_ feel the same, he just didn't understand it. "Talk to me," she said quietly.

He complied. He told her of the man he was looking for, the one she'd seen in his cards – he called this man 'the Doctor'. He then described an organization, Torchwood, that thought the Doctor was their enemy, because they didn't understand who he really was.

"I'm one of the Doctor's best friends and now I work for people who see him as a threat to be eliminated," he finished bitterly.

"Are they likely to succeed?" she asked.

"In eliminating him? Not a chance, but that's not the point – I _work_ for them!" He said angrily.

For just a moment, she felt that the anger was actually directed at her. After a moment of concentration, she realized why – he'd originally taken the job because of her fortune that he'd have to wait so long to find this Doctor. That had been his answer to his question of what to do in the meantime.

The feeling of blame vanished almost as soon as she learned what it meant. If he had even been aware of the feeling, he gave no indication of it. "I'm supposed to be on assignment for them now. But...I'm not hiding! I'm just...avoiding them for awhile." He seemed to sense her skepticism and changed the subject abruptly. "There's going to be a war in a few months. A war that will involve most of the world. I think I'll go fight in it. Give myself a chance to get away from Torchwood for a few years."

Though she knew nothing of a war, she found that she didn't doubt that he knew what he was talking about. "Interesting," she murmured.

"What is?"

"I'm the fortune-teller," she answered. "But you're the one with knowledge of the future."

She did not ask how he'd gotten this knowledge. She didn't really need to, because she already knew – he knew the future because it was in his past. He remembered it.

She did wonder, though, whether his memory of the future was part of the reason that he would _always_ be there.

**A/N: Thanks to Torchwood Cardiff and izzfrogger for reviewing! Especially, izzfrogger, for all the great ideas! They really helped a lot - I now have a pretty good idea of all the meetings for the 20th century. This chapter was, in fact, inspired by your idea of him musing about the World Wars (though I doubt it was really what you had in mind).**

**This chapter was also supposed to explain why Jack didn't know what Tommy was going to have to do in 'To the Last Man' despite telling them that Tommy had been there 'longer than any of us - any of you', which meant, as we know, _he_ had actually been there the longest.**

**I haven't reminded you of Becoming a Time Lady for a few chapters, so here's a shout-out of that: Go read it!**

**And now, please review!**


	9. Chapter 9: 1925

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Torchwood. **

**Chapter 9: 1925**

She was watching, as she so often did. She watched as tents and stages were erected, as contortionists, acrobats, and strongmen warmed up. And through all the bustle of a traveling show preparing for its next performance, she watched for the Captain.

She knew he was here. She'd not have come if he weren't. _Why _he was here was her question and for once her curiosity had urged her to come and find out – the alternative being to wait until she next saw him and ask then.

"If you'd just explain how it works - !"

"I've told you, it wouldn't be any help to you or anyone else if I did!"

Smiling, she turned in the direction of the angry voices, one of which belonged to the very man she had come to find.

"Jack, your act is the most popular in the show!" the second arguer exclaimed.

"Yeah, and if everyone knew how it worked, that would only make it _less_ popular," was the reply. "Leave well enough alone, will you?" The man who she took to be the manager of the show evidently had no answer to this - he stormed off and the Captain shook his head at the retreating figure.

She was standing behind him, out of his sight, but when he spoke again, she had no doubt he was talking to her. "I'm performing here as the man who can't die."

"Fitting," she said, and he glanced at her as she approached.

He shrugged. "Sure. But they want to know how I do it." He gave a short, slightly derisive laugh. "What am I supposed to say to _that_?"

She had thought his answer had been a perfectly good one, though it had obviously not pleased the manager. Presumably, he liked to know what was going on in his show – and a trick that wasn't really a trick didn't fit the bill. "If you don't tell them, what are they going to do? Kill you?"

This time his laugh was more natural. "Good point." After a pause, he asked. "You don't really strike me as the type to enjoy this sort of thing. Why are you here?"

"I am here to ask you that very question." Having stated her purpose, she didn't bother actually asking the question, instead looking at the performers around them as he was deciding what to say. She could sense his indecision.

Finally, he answered. "I'm on assignment."

"Torchwood?"

"Mm. I went back after the war. Couldn't resist. It's not a bad organization, really," he went on quickly. "They have the same ultimate goals as the Doctor does, they just don't understand that." He sounded like he was more trying to convince himself than her.

She closed her eyes, thinking back over the years. "He will understand," she murmured after a few seconds. Eyes open again, she look up at him. "I saw it. In the cards. He will understand."

"Really?"

He relaxed as she nodded. It had been one of the many things that hadn't made sense when she first saw it, but now she knew what it meant.

"Jack!" The manager was coming back. "What _are_ you still doing out here? You should be getting ready – go! Go, go, go!" He yelled.

Sighing, the Captain started to leave, but then stopped and turned back to her. "I'll see you again."

It wasn't a question. It had _never_ been a question, in her mind. Still, she was glad to hear him say it, to know that he understood this. "Of course," she said.

The manager looked about ready to explode, so that was when she decided to take her leave.

As she walked away, however, she was content in her firm, unyielding, and unchanging knowledge: he would _always_ be there.

**A/N: Thanks to Torchwood Cardiff for reviewing last chapter!**

**Fun Fact: This is the first chapter of this story that calls Jack by name. I think it's also the first chapter that has dialogue from a character _not_ Jack or the girl.**

**Please review!**


	10. Chapter 10: 1933, part 1

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing Torchwood.**

**Chapter 10: 1933 (part 1)**

The next time she saw him, he walked right up to her in the street and, without a word, held out an envelope. Looking curiously from him to the letter, she accepted it. She turned it over and nearly laughed when she saw to whom it had been addressed:

_The not-young girl who reads tarot cards and does not have a name_

It was, at any rate, clear who was meant by it. Nonetheless, she glanced up at him, eyebrows raised. In response, he shrugged. "Didn't know what else to put."

Smiling, though feeling slightly sorry for him – at least she had a name to put to him, though she felt no need to use it – she opened the envelope. As she read the enclosed letter, however, her smile faded and her eyes widened in disbelief.

After staring at the paper in her hands for a minute, she finally looked up and spoke, "This is a wedding invitation."

**A/N: Extra short and it doesn't end with the regular line, because this it the first of a series of...four, I think. Possibly five. I'll be posting one a day until it's over, however long that may be.**

**Thanks to Torchwood Cardiff and I Love Janto for reviewing last chapter!**

**Please review!**


	11. Chapter 11: 1933, part 2

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything Torchwood.**

**Chapter 11: 1933 (part 2)**

"You're...you're inviting me to your wedding?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

He seemed taken aback by the question. "Well, why not?" She didn't answer, just continued to stare, and he sighed. "I don't know why. I have no family and few friends on this pla – I mean, in this ti – that is...here." She noticed the slips, but had no interest in his attempts to cover up them up. She hadn't actually _known_ he was from another planet or time period, although she could've guessed it – but anyway, she didn't care.

"And...?" she prompted. The invitation had taken her completely by surprise. Considering how well she felt she knew him, any unexpected action of his was going to go through intense scrutiny by her.

"And...you're one of them," he said, sounding slightly uncomfortable. Perhaps because she was still staring. She made herself blink, something that she sometimes forgot to do when shocked, and glanced down at the letter briefly before looking up again. "Not _just_ one of them, even. You're my oldest friend on Earth." He frowned suddenly. "Probably literally. How old _are_ you, actually?"

"Four hundred. And fifty. I think." She murmured the answer to the question, ignoring his surprise at the number. "And I haven't been to a wedding for most of it."

"So, is that a 'no' then?"

"I don't know," she said slowly. "I have to think about it."

**A/N: I haven't actually decided whether she should go or not, but I'm leaning toward 'yes'. What do you think?**

**Please review!**


	12. Chapter 12: 1933, part 3

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing Torchwood.**

**Chapter 12: 1933 (part 3)**

Several hours after she had received the wedding invitation, she lay in the rarely-used bed in her current place of lodging, turning the paper over and over in her hands.

She hadn't been able to come to a decision, yet, about whether she would go. She had never thought she would be in this situation – and now that she was, she couldn't picture herself actually attending the wedding. It was too public for her, almost too...normal.

Neither could she imagine rejecting the invitation.

She couldn't remember reading anything about it in the cards. Perhaps that meant she was supposed to go, as she could never see anything that she was involved with - on the other hand, it could just mean that it was hidden amongst everything else.

If she went, what would happen? She had no parents, and of course people would find that odd, considering her appearance of a twelve-year-old. And if she were asked who she was, what could she say? "'I'm the Captain's fortune-teller...'" she muttered, trying one possible answer and discarding it. She then remember how the letter had been addressed. "'The not-young girl who reads tarot cards and does not have a name.' Or else... 'I'm the oldest friend of the groom.'"

She couldn't quite seem to comprehend it – not that he'd called her his oldest friend, _that_ she understood perfectly. But that he was going to be a groom. He was getting _married. _It was something else she couldn't picture, as hard as she tried. The proof was right in front of her, on a piece of paper handed to her by the man himself.

None of this had completely convinced her, however, which might've contributed to why she couldn't decide about whether to accept.

**A/N: So, I lied. Two chapters today and no more until Monday - I'm going to this pre-college camp-like thing this weekend that I completely forgot about.**

**Please review!**


	13. Chapter 13: 1933, part 4

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Torchwood.**

**Chapter 13: 1933 (part 4)**

Eventually, she'd realized there was no option – she had to go to his wedding, if for no other reason than to convince herself it was really taking place. Otherwise, she knew she would never actually be sure about that.

She didn't have to attend openly, though. She could stick to the shadows and he would be able to tell she was there, while no one else had to even notice. She was very good at going unnoticed, when she wanted.

During the ceremony, she couldn't help wondering what the point was. The point of getting married. He was going on a hundred years old – at least. And he was going to live so much longer, perhaps forever. No matter how long his wife lived, the marriage would last a blink of an eye in his lifetime, eventually. Why, then, should he bother?

Except...assuming she had appeared old enough to get married, this logic would've been more than enough to convince her not to marry – as it was, she preferred not to get into long term relationships. But, however similar their situations, he was _not_ the same as her. She'd always known this. She _existed_ in life – he lived through it. That was really the fundamental difference between them.

Marriage was part of living. And, as she watched from the back of the room, she could tell he was happy with that.

After the wedding, she stepped out of the shadows briefly to catch his eye. They exchanged a nod of greeting and she turned away. As she left, the bride asked who she was.

"She's a friend," he answered. "A very old friend."

She though she heard the woman laugh at that. How could a little girl be an old friend? Well, how could a man a century old look like he was in his thirties? She vaguely wondered whether the woman knew that – and, if not, how she'd react upon learning it.

It didn't matter, really, how these things had happened. What was important was that they had – and that because they had, he would _always _be there.

**A/N: And...that's the end of the wedding mini-series. Back to single scenes every decade or so. By the way, there are still a few decades without meetings, so if you have any ideas, always feel free to share them.**

**Please review!**


	14. Chapter 14: 1941

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood or Doctor Who.**

**Chapter 14: 1941**

She was in London. There was a reason for this. She was sure there was. Would she really come to a city that was being bombed, in the midst of a war, for no reason whatsoever? Of course she wouldn't. She had more self-preservation than that. Unfortunately, just because she knew she must have a reason didn't mean she knew what it was.

It had been a feeling. Actually, it had felt like the time she'd been drawn to see the Captain arrive, by way of the blue-rimmed hole in the air. A _lot_ like it, almost enough like it to make her think that it was, in fact, the same feeling. But it couldn't be – he could only arrive once, couldn't he?

She should've known better than to make any such assumption, especially where he was concerned.

His arrival, this time, was not exactly the same – but neither was it entirely different. Instead of being dropped out of thin air, this time he seemed to simply step out of it. It was much more controlled, she thought.

As she watched, she noticed something odd about him. For several long seconds, she couldn't figure out what it was and even wondered why she was trying. He was always different, of course...except that was exactly the problem – he _wasn't_ different this time.

This realization startled her so that she stumbled backward a few steps. It wasn't him, it couldn't be. It looked like him, had the same outward appearance in every way – including clothing style – but it didn't feel like him, and that was what was most important.

Whoever he was, he was _not_ her Captain – he wouldn't understand her, he wouldn't even know her. And her certainly wouldn't give her the feeling that she always got from the Captain. The feeling that she so desperately needed.

Suddenly, she started running. She had the vague idea that she was going to keep running until she got home. Back to the city where if she saw him, she could be sure it _was_ really him and not just someone who looked like him.

Back to the feeling that he would _always_ be there.

**A/N: So, this story has officially crossed-over to Doctor Who, though for the most part it'll stick to Torchwood. I think.**

**By the way, if you've read (_read_, not seen the movie) Hitchhikker's Guide to the Galaxy, I wrote a one-shot of it and Doctor Who in which they learn the Ultimate Question.**

**Anyway, please review!**


	15. Chapter 15: 1946

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood or Doctor Who.**

**Chapter 15: 1946**

Perhaps she wasn't as patient as she had once thought herself to be. The war that involved the world – the second such, this century – it was over. It had been over for less than a year, but already she was feeling the urge to seek out the Captain again. She wanted to ask him what he knew of the not-him she'd seen in London. Of course, there was no guarantee he'd know anything at all, but there was not harm in trying. And after all, it wasn't as though there was anyone _else_ she could ask.

Locating him was not difficult, it never had been. Unfortunately, unlike most times, he was not alone and she had to wait some time for the three people with him to leave. She wondered whether this was somehow because of her impatience – if she hadn't decided to look for him so soon, would she have naturally found him again at a more opportune moment?

She recognized no one in the group, but that was to be expected. Only rarely had she so much as seen the others that he would call friends and even now, though she knew she couldn't talk to him when they were there, she paid little attention to them. They were mortal, they aged fast and died easily – and they would likely all be dead before she saw them again.

Finally, they all left. "You have been waiting for the past five hours," he commented as she approached.

"I have been waiting for the past five years, actually," she corrected. "I have a question."

"Aren't you the one with all the answers?" he joked.

She smiled faintly, but refused to be deterred. "London, 1941. There was a man there who appeared from the air and he looked like you. But he wasn't."

He suddenly looked alarmed. "You didn't try to talk to him? He didn't know you were there?"

"No. He didn't feel right." she answered, mystified by his reaction. "Why? Who was he?"

"The past," he said after a second. "He was me, from the past."

She shook her head in rejection. "_No_, he wasn't you. He wasn't right, he was...wrong." There were not words to describe what she was trying to say, but it didn't matter, because he was nodding – he knew what she meant, with or without the words to say it.

"I don't mean he was me five years ago – I would've been in Germany in 1941," he explained. "He's from the _past_. The far past – closer to 75 years ago."

She didn't point out that, to her, 75 years wasn't a terribly long time period either. She certainly wouldn't have called it the far past. But, she noted, it _was_ still more than half his lifetime. He was going on. "And I'm not surprised you thought he was wrong. He was normal, wasn't he? Mortal. Because that version of me hadn't met the Bad Wolf yet." A distant look suddenly came into his eyes, like he was remembering something. "He probably hadn't even met the Doctor yet..." he murmured to himself.

She said nothing for the next few minutes, trying to process the idea. When she finally spoke, the words were not what she'd expected to ever say, not to him. "I don't believe you."

_That_ pulled him out of reverie. "_What_?" he cried, shocked. "Why the hell would I lie about that? Come to think of it, why would I lie to you at all?"

Had she still had the ability to blush, she might've done so. "I – that's not what I meant," she muttered, glancing down. "It's just...he was so different. From you, that is, and so much _like_ everyone else."

He snorted. "He'd _love_ to hear you say that," he said sarcastically. "I prided myself on standing out back then. But if this is the price of being unique..." he trailed off and for a few seconds, she could _feel_ his emotions: betrayal and anger at the Doctor and impatience in waiting for him, sadness at his wife's death, discontent with his life now...but all of that paled in comparison to the overwhelming sense of ennui. It was, she realized, something that had been building since he'd arrived in 1869 and had now grown to an ache, a physical pain that was always there, just lessened occasionally.

"I wish I could die," he whispered, so softly she wasn't sure she'd heard right.

"You what?" she asked, horrified. "You _want_ to die?" She shuddered at that – both the thought of losing him and the very idea of wishing for death.

"No..." he answered slowly. "But I'd like to be able to. Maybe the Doctor can help, when he comes back," he added hopefully.

She didn't say anything. The Doctor _couldn't_ help him die, she knew – not because she'd seen it, but because she knew that it couldn't be done, not by anyone.

Whether he wanted it or not, he would _always _be there.

**A/N: I don't know if you noticed the very brief, very hasty mention that Jack's wife from the previous mini-series is already dead only, what, 13 years later. I never liked the date that I'd put on the wedding and I have now realized why: Jack had a lover during World War II, what's-her-name from the fairies episode. Personally, I didn't really like that episode, so I'd forgotten about it until now (still don't remember much more than that she existed). Ok, so Jack's a major flirt, yes, but - to me, at least - he is _not_ a cheater. If he was married during the war, he wouldn't have a lover too...right? Anyway, I find it perfectly believable that whoever he married wouldn't have lived very long. For one thing, she was married to _Jack_. That would be a dangerous move, I think. **

**I thought about the idea that what's-her-name might actually have been a lover from the previous time Jack had been in WWII, since he'd spent 3 months on Earth before the Doctor and Rose got there, but I thought that would be hard to describe for this story. Besides, I have the vague notion that their affair lasted longer than that...and I don't think it happened in London, either. So, I killed his wife instead. It was just simpler that way.**

**That was a long explanation for five words, wasn't it? Moving on...**

**Please review!**


	16. Chapter 16: 1953

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything Torchwood or Doctor Who related.**

**Chapter 16: 1953**

"Why were you in London?"

She turned at his voice, unsurprised that he was picking up from their last conversation like it had been only days ago, rather than years.

Nonetheless, she clarified. "In 1941? I suppose...it really _was_ you that I saw there?" He nodded. "Then I suppose I was there because I knew you were coming. I did before, too – in 1869, I mean."

She only realized that he hadn't actually known that when he looked slightly startled at the words. "Really?" It was her turn to nod. He looked thoughtful for a minute, then asked, "Do you know what a spatial-temporal rift is?" She didn't - she'd never so much as heard the words before. Evidently, her confusion was obvious. "Thought not. It's like a break...a break in space and time. And it can let things through from other places and times. There's one here in Cardiff."

He hesitated, apparently waiting for a question, so she obliged with the first one that came to mind. "How did it get here?"

"I don't know. As far as I know, it's always been there. What about you – how long have you been here?"

A slight smile curled her lips. "I have been in Cardiff since before it was Cardiff."

"Exactly," he said, sounding as though her answer had just proven a theory of his. "How about this: how long have you been psychic?"

"I'm not sure," she confessed slowly. "As long as I can remember, but it's gotten stronger over the centuries."

He grinned. "Natural ability, probably – something you were born with, but it's been increased by prolonged exposure to the Rift. Otherwise, it could have to do with...whatever happened. Whatever made you...like you are..." He trailed off and the question was there, plain in his tone and expression, but he didn't actually ask. He didn't need to and her silence was enough of an answer. "That might've caused it," he finished.

She shifted uncomfortably, not liking where this conversation had gone so quickly. It was bringing up old memories, ones she would rather keep forgotten. "I was only 12 at the time," she said stiffly. "Twelve years from birth to - " she cut of abruptly. "Twelve years. Does it make a difference really, which caused it?" Twelve years was next to nothing, to her.

"Guess not," he was clearly disappointed that she hadn't explained, but her reluctance to talk about it was surely obvious and he didn't press.

"Is there a point you're trying to make?" she asked shortly.

"Yes, actually," he replied. "Our connection, I'm trying to explain why we're connected like this. At first, I thought it was the immortality - "

"I am not immortal," she interrupted.

"No, I know that," he agreed. "But I thought there could be, I don't know, some sort of link between you, a psychic, and me, an immortal – just because of what we are. If that was the case though, you shouldn't have picked up on the mortal version of me, in London."

"So, what is it then?" she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

"I think it's the Rift. You've been by the Rift for, what did you say? Four and a half centuries?" She nodded once in confirmation. "And I've been here 80 years already, maybe not _always_ in Cardiff, but mostly. And there's the future to think about – how long are we going to stay here?"

"You think we're connected because we've both spent enough time around a...'break in time and space'?" she asked skeptically, eyebrows raised.

"It's possible, yes. Just a theory, but definitely possible," he shrugged.

She continued to stare for a few minutes, then she smiled. She didn't care, really, why she could always find him, why she could sometimes see his future and feel his emotions and share his thoughts. If he wanted to try and figure it out, she certainly wouldn't object, but none of it mattered to her. What mattered was that he had come and he had stayed – and, most importantly, he would _always_ be there.

**A/N: I realized that if I'm going to expand their relationship/connection as I have done, I should also give something of a reason for it. This is, for now, the reason I'm going with. I might expand on it later, once they reach the 21st century though.**

**Word of warning: I'm starting college in a week, so updates for this (and anything else of mine that you might be reading) are going to probably be extremely slow. **

**Please review!**


	17. Chapter 17: 1963

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything Doctor Who or Torchwood.**

**Chapter 17: 1963**

Her eyebrows were furrowed as she watched him, about 10 years later. Oddly, he didn't yet seem aware of her presence – but, he _was_ otherwise engaged. "What _are_ you doing?" she asked, both out of innocent curiosity and mild amusement.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he shot back calmly – evidently she'd been wrong to think he hadn't known she was there.

"It looks like you're breaking into a Police Telephone Box," she replied, for that was, indeed, what he appeared to be doing. More exactly, he was trying to unlock a Police Box, using a key that obviously didn't fit in the keyhole. Which meant it wasn't the right key – ergo, he breaking in. "Right?"

He shrugged. "I'm looking for the right one."

"Oh?"

Sighing, he gave up the fruitless effort of turning the key. "This key," he held it up. "Is a key to the Doctor's...spaceship. And the Doctor's ship looks like one of these," he pointed to the Police Box. "It's just not this one, I guess. But if I find the Doctor's ship, I find the Doctor."

She frowned. "You're not _going_ to find him, not yet," she said slowly. "I told you, remember? 'The century will turn twice before you find each other.'" she repeated her original fortune to him. "That was in 1899. How many times has the century turned since then?"

"Once," he answered reluctantly.

"And how many times must it?"

"Twice," If anything, the response was even more reluctant this time. "Look, I don't _want_ to spend another four decades waiting for him! And that's _minimum_ – do you realize your fortune could mean that I'm stuck here until the end of the 21st century?"

She bristled at the note of accusation in his voice. "I do not write the future, Captain, I only predict it," she told him coldly. "I'll thank you to remember that."

"Time can be rewritten, according to the Doctor, whether you're the one who writes it or not," he retorted. "You don't tell the absolute future, you tell a _possible_ future. Maybe even the most likely future. But time can be rewritten, so then I sure as hell am not going to sit around patiently for the turn of the century just because _you_ say I have to!"

With that, he walked away, looking for more Police Telephone Boxes to try. She stood, watching the direction he'd gone long after he'd disappeared around a corner.

She wondered whether he was right about her fortunes. It seemed like what he'd said described what she could see about _most_ people's futures – vague events and possibilities that didn't always come true. But he had always been different from everyone else. His future was clearer, seeming fairly set in stone to her. She definitely didn't think he could change anything by trying to open Police Boxes.

But she could be wrong. Just because everything felt so certain didn't necessarily mean she was right. She knew he would always be there...

For the first time, however, she wondered what that _really_ meant.

**A/N: So, I recently watched Miracle Day, and have decided that this story is going to run at least until then. However, I'm having a bit of trouble deciding - how do you suppose Faith was affected by the Miracle?**

**On another note, this is officially the last thing I'll be posting before starting college. My first class is in...oh...about an hour and a half. I'm so excited! Anyway, I expect this will affect updates. **

**Please review!**


	18. Chapter 18: 1991

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or Torchwood.**

**A/N: The location in this chapter is the courts where Rose and Mickey saw a whole lot of Bad Wolf graffiti, just so you know.**

**Chapter 18: 1991**

It had been almost three decades since she'd last seen him. She wondered, sometimes, whether she'd been wrong; maybe he'd successfully tracked down the Doctor's spaceship and they'd found each other earlier than predicted. But she knew this wasn't the case. She always knew.

He was in London again, when she finally felt the need to look for him once more. When she did, he was watching a little girl playing tag with some other kids on a basketball court. "Her name's Rose," he said as the came up behind him. "Rose Tyler. She's a friend of the Doctor. Or will be, I suppose - she's only five, now."

She nodded slowly, but her lips were pursed and her eyebrows knitted as she watched the girl run. "She...she is..." It was as though a fortune were trying to form, but couldn't quite manage it.

"Yes?" he prompted, glancing at her once.

"She's light. Light and power and...and time," she spoke carefully, each word coming with difficulty. Rose Tyler had an important future, but she couldn't seem to see what it was.

"Time?" he repeated, surprised. "I guess the Doctor picked the right girl. Unless, you're seeing these things _because_ of her future with the Doctor?"

She didn't answer. The court looked strange to her, like something was missing. Staring at a brick wall across from her, she could _almost_ see words written there – graffiti that had yet to be painted. Try as she might, she couldn't make out what it would eventually say. Giving up, she noticed instead a woman with bleached-blonde hair shooting the Captain increasingly suspicious and dirty looks. Since he was still focused on Rose, she quietly pointed this woman out to him.

"Ah...yeah, that's her mother. Jackie." Glancing back at Rose once, he added, "I should go." Nodding, she followed as he turned away. "Will I ever see her again?" he asked.

"Time travel," she murmured, though not as a response. "Her future is in your past. Time travel allows you to see someone as younger after you've aged a hundred years. Who can tell the future of two time travelers? What _is_ the future of two time travelers?"

For several seconds, he seemed struck speechless. "I thought you were a fortune-teller. Telling the future is what you _do_!"

She shook her head. "When one person's future is another one's past, that's no longer fortune telling." He looked confused. "You know this girl, Rose Tyler, but she doesn't know you. You say she'll meet the Doctor, that's in her future. But it's your past, so is that fortune telling? No, that's memory," she explained. If his expression was anything to go by, the explanation didn't help much. "Look, I can't see her future – not in relation to you, at least."

"Why could you see my future in relation to the Doctor then? He's a time traveler too," he pointed out.

"Because the Doctor...that is I...I mean, well..." she trailed off. She had absolutely no idea how to answer the question. "It's just...not the same thing."

"It's exactly the same thing," he muttered, but didn't press the matter. After a few minutes of silence, he said. "I met Rose a few months after you saw me in 1941. She was hanging from a barrage balloon. Never would tell us exactly how she'd gotten there."

"What happened?" she asked. As he proceeded to tell her a story of gas mask people and a child looking for his mother, she wondered about the little girl named Rose. If all went as it had, she would grow up to have the adventure. It wasn't fortune telling, of course, for him to know what would happen to her – but it wasn't exactly talking about the past, either. Something in the story broke into her thoughts. "They brought him back to life? The...the...uh..."

"Nanogenes."

"The nanogenes could bring him back to life?"

"Yeah."

"How?"

He looked taken aback and she knew why. He was surprised she was showing this interest, considering she never really had before. "I, uh, I don't know. It's Chula technology, I don't know how it works. It's all gone now, anyway, destroyed with the Chulas."

"'Now?" she asked. "What does it mean for something to be all gone 'now' – if time travel exists?" Before he could answer, she went on. "And how can the Chulas be destroyed if they have technology to bring them back to life?"

"It's complicated. Time wars, time locks. All it means is that they're gone and so is their technology," he finished firmly. "Why? Why is it important to you?"

She didn't answer, instead saying something about having to go and then left.

Time travel, space travel – breaks in time and space that brought things from other planets and times. A man who couldn't die or age. Even time wars and time locks, whatever they were. All of these had seemed right to her – inevitable, perhaps, that they happen. But technology to bring someone back to life? To really truly return life to one who had died? It was less even that the technology existed and more that he'd spoken of it so casually. Was this something common in the universe – would humans have it one day? If she waited long enough...

She didn't want to die, but she did want to live. Not live forever, like he did, just live.

**A/N: I wrote a companion one-shot to the last chapter (the one about Police Boxes). It's from Jack's perspective, about seeing images of the TARDIS everywhere...and just for the fun of it, he finds a real one.**

**The idea for this chapter (and for the next one) came from izzfrogger - thanks to him/her! I seriously would never have thought of a chapter involving Rose.**

**I haven't had any reviews for the past three chapters. :( Must I start begging again? I really don't want to, but I will if necessary. **

**Please review!**


	19. Chapter 19: 2000, part 1

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood or Doctor Who**

**A/N: I wrote this chapter listening to Ascension of the Spirit, by Evanescence (short version). I realize that this chapter will take a fraction of the time to read as it did to write, but I think that listening to that song will help set the mood.**

**Chapter 19: 2000 (Part 1)**

She could feel it from a mile away. Through whatever bond connected her to the Captain came a surge of anguish and horror and loss. And need. Whatever had happened, he needed someone. He needed her.

She was running nearly before the realization was complete.

Never before had she been inside the Torchwood headquarters, though she'd long known where it was. She'd never before had any reason to go there, but now, that was where she would find him. If the overwhelming sense of loneliness she was still receiving from him was anything to go by, there was not going to be anyone else there.

When the door opened, the scene that met her eyes was one of horror. Four dead bodies were scattered around the room, the stench of blood filling the air. In the middle sat the Captain, sobbing. She said nothing, only crossed the room slowly and sat down on the floor next to him. His eyes met hers briefly before he closed them, tears falling thickly.

She knew little about comforting. In fact, she didn't know the first thing about comforting. Uncertainly, she took his hand in hers. To her relief, he accepted it and held on tightly. She felt a tiny bit of gratitude shoot through the despair. It wasn't much, but all she could do was give him what he'd given her for so long.

She was there for him. She would always be there.

**Please review!**


	20. Chapter 20: 2000, part 2

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Torchwood or Doctor Who.**

**Chapter 20: 2000 Part 2**

She didn't know how long they stayed there. He might've fallen asleep, though naturally she couldn't. When he finally looking looked up, the television which had been playing this whole time was giving the morning news.

"It's the twenty-first century," he said quietly. "I've waited so long for the twenty-first century. And now it doesn't even seem to matter."

"The Bad Wolf gave forever and took all else..." she murmured.

Evidently he heard her. "So this..." he waved a hand at the death around them. "This is what that fortune means? I thought it just meant that the Doctor left without me."

Shrugging slightly, she answered, "It could be interpreted either way. By granting you eternal life, the Bad Wolf ensured that no matter what, you would always survive while everything around you was destroyed, everyone around you killed – by old age if nothing else. That's not just your curse though, it's mine as well."

"How do you cope with it?"

"Mostly, I just don't form bonds with anything," she admitted slowly. "I try to see everything as fleeting, something that be gone when I look again."

"I couldn't live like that. I _can't_ live like that." He said firmly, shaking his head.

"I know. I understand that," she answered, nodding. "What worked for me won't work for you. In truth, it didn't work for me, not really. For three-hundred years, I couldn't let myself consider anything around me to be permanent, to be important. And then – there was you. I've only survived the past century because of you."

As she spoke, she remembered that she was still holding his hand. Glancing down, she was a little startled by a realization – she'd known him for over a century, but this was the first time she ever touched him. "You're cold," he said quietly, following her gaze. "Ice cold."She tried to pull her hand away, but held on. "It's fine," After a moment, he continued. "I've needed you, too. The world changes so fast, especially now. And you stay the same. You're constant."

"Constant," She smiled. "Forever constant."

"Forever constant," he whispered.

**A/N: So, finally, after 20 chapters, the title actually appears in the story. I hope you understood why I named it that before now, but otherwise...well, it was all building to this point.**

**It's the 21st century – the 21st century is when everything changes, including Jack's relationship with the girl. For one thing, the chapters are going to be happening closer together. For another, not all of them are going to include Jack, or even be about him. Here is a brief outline of the next 11 years: two chapters on the Year That Never Was, four chapters about Owen, and at least three about Miracle Day.**

**Now, I am not idling giving you this information. I'm telling you this as a warning that this story _will be over_ in about 9 chapters – unless you decide you want more and so, give me some ideas for more. I'd totally be up to writing more about Owen, but only if you tell me what you want to see.**

**Apologies for the long author's note.**

**Please review and tell me what you want! Even if you don't have any ideas, please review anyway!**


	21. Chapter 21: preTYTNW, part 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or Torchwood.**

**Chapter 21: pre-The Year That Never Was, (part 1)**

The first time she noticed a tremor in time was when Harold Saxon made his first public appearance. She frowned at his face on the television, but the tremor was gone as soon as it had come. She sighed, still frowning as she turned away.

**A/N: I warned you everything would change, right? The next ~6 chapters will be in this format, posted one a day for the next ~6 days. After that, there will be ~5 longer chapters about The Year That Never Was and one post-TYTNW where she actually sees Jack again. After ****_that_**** I'm estimating ~8 chapters that have to do with Owen's death, starting with her second onscreen scene with Jack. Then the Miracle Day stuff which I haven't got around to outlining yet. It'll be at least 3 chapters, bringing the overall total up to 40+. **

**(If you're wondering what happened to Children of the Earth: I hated that story and tried my hardest to convince myself it never happened. While I'll admit that the _results_ were real and occasionally refer to them, I refuse to write any Fanfiction on that story.)  
**

**Oh, and I have a question. How involved do you want Faith to be in the events of TYTNW? On a scale of 1-10, one being that she's in hiding the whole time, 10 being that she saved the world single-handedly, no need for the Doctor. I refuse to actually write either 1 or 10, by the way. :)**

**I promise to refrain from long author's notes in the future (well, on the next few chapters), but there's one more thing I need to say. I would never have dared to write a one paragraph chapter if I had not seen this technique used in a story called Last Children of Gallifrey by DoctorWTF. It's a series of stories about what would've happened if the Master had been saved and forced to travel with the Doctor after The End of Time. It's really very awesome and you should all go read and review it so hopefully he/she'll start updating again. **

**Um, if you managed to make it through all that...review?**


	22. Chapter 22: preTYTNW, part 2

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or Torchwood.**

**Chapter 22: pre-The Year That Never Was, (part 2)**

The second tremor in time came when they launched Harold Saxon's Archangel Network a few weeks later. She didn't have a mobile phone – she had no one to call, after all, no one who'd call her – but everyone around her was using it. Sometimes, there seemed to be a signal coming through the phones that people used on the streets. Something... rhythmic.


	23. Chapter 23: preTYTNW, part 3

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or Torchwood.**

**Chapter 23: pre-TYTNW (part 3)**

When Harold Saxon shot down the spaceship on Christmas Eve, she began to think that there was definitely something wrong about him. The first tremor in time had come when arrived, the second during a technological breakthrough of his – and now, his first major military accomplishment accompanied the third. She didn't yet know what the tremors meant, but they didn't feel good.

Worse, she couldn't see what was coming because of it.


	24. Chapter 24, preTYTNW, part 4

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or Torchwood.**

**Chapter 24: pre-TYTNW (part 4)**

The next tremor wasn't as clearly linked to Harold Saxon. It happened when a man named Richard Lazarus performed an experiment to de-age himself. It went wrong, but when the news showed a picture of the machine he'd used, she felt a flicker of recognition. Due to her growing suspicions of Saxon over the past months, she'd gotten to know the Minister of Defense well. This machine had his design written all over it.


	25. Chapter 25: preTYTNW, part 5

_**Forever Constant**_

******Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or Torchwood.**

**Chapter 25: pre-TYTNW (part 5)**

The fifth and most significant tremor yet didn't seem to have any connection to Harold Saxon at all. However, she reasoned that since he'd been involved in all the others, she could blame this one on him as well. She might as well – she had to blame _someone_, anyway. Because, unlike the first three, this one directly affected her.

The fifth tremor in time happened when the Captain disappeared.

**A/N: *sigh* This would be such a great cliff-hanger if we didn't already know what happened...**


	26. Chapter 26: preTYTNW, part 6

_**Forever Constant**_

**Chapter 26: pre-TYTNW (part 6)**

She spent the next three days in a state of worry such that she'd never been through before. The Captain was gone, Harold Saxon was on the verge of being made Prime Minister – and she didn't know what, if anything, she could do about it. Saxon had won over the hearts and minds of the people, so there was no one to whom she could voice her concerns. Even if she tried, with her 'time tremor' portents of doom, who would believe it?

The Captain would've believed her, but he had disappeared. She briefly closed her eyes, sighing as she felt the gap that was normally her sense of how to find him. But she couldn't find what wasn't there.

It was no surprise to her that when Harold Saxon won the election, the announcement was accompanied by the sixth tremor in time.

And somehow, she knew it to be the last. Next, would come the earthquake.

**A/N: I kind of got impatient with these little chapters, so here's the last one. I hope you can guess what 'the earthquake' is...**

**Oh, and if you're interested, when I'm done with The Year That Never Was section, I might write an alternate version where Faith decides to tell Torchwood about this so that they're ready when Saxon tries to send them to the Himalayas.**

**Please review!**


	27. Chapter 27: TYTNW, day 1

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or Torchwood.**

**Chapter 27: TYTNW (day 1)**

The skies opened and the spheres descended. As everyone else started screaming and running, she only stood in the street and watched. The spheres ignored her, flying past as though she didn't exist.

This was it. The tremors she'd been feeling for months had been caused by this, the tear in the sky; the tear in time itself. At the same time, she felt sure that the events connected to the tremors had, in turn, caused whatever had torn time - paradox.

Why _didn't_ they see her? The weren't ignoring anyone else. While it was obvious that they'd been given orders to leave some alive, they went out of their way to shoot at everyone, missing most on purpose. But not her. Not once did any of the spheres so much as slow down as they passed by her.

Deciding that for now, at least, the reason for this wasn't important, she looked up to where she knew the Captain to be. She'd known he was back and in London the previous day, but before she could get there, he vanished again – only to reappear again shortly before the skies opened.

She could feel pain, anger, and despair. He was trapped, captive of whoever Harold Saxon really was. Vaguely, she wondered whether their bond had been strengthened by something. Never before had she received so much information from him. Was it because of the rip in time?

That wasn't really important either. Right then, at the end of the world, she was having a hard time deciding whether _anything_ was really important anymore.

**A/N: Yeah, sorry that she's depressed in this chapter. This is for two reasons: 1. her world was just taken over by aliens, and 2. my online physics homework keeps telling me I got the answers wrong and I _know_ that I didn't. So I'm a bit depressed myself. But you know what would really cheer me up? You guessed it!**

**Review! Please? It would help, it really would. :)**


	28. Chapter 28: TYTNW, day 7

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood or Doctor Who**

**Chapter 28: TYTNW (day 7)**

Silence. Only a week after the start of the terror, and already there was nothing but silence. There was nothing to make noise, after all. No cars, no people. The survivors of the massacre were locked in their homes, awaiting information about life under Saxon's – the Master's – new regime. The spheres floated dangerously up and down the silent streets of London, searching for anyone who might be left.

She, curled up as she was on the steps of an abandoned bookstore, was hardly hiding. And yet she watched, almost bored, as the spheres bobbed right in front of her, evidently oblivious to her presence. Sighing, she hugged her knees to her chest and rested her head against them. She'd felt alone before, but it had been nothing like this.

To distract herself from the growing sense of loneliness, she tried to focus on the anomaly of being invisible to the spheres. Was it because of her condition? Perhaps they could only see someone with body heat? Or a pulse? The Captain would know. He knew things like that, or else could figure them out.

She cast her thoughts upward, almost hoping to contact him. Their connection had never worked long distance before, but she still tried. What she found instead was another mind entirely.

"_Who are you_?"

With a startled gasp, she leapt to her feet, scrambling backward until she hit the entrance to the bookstore. After a few seconds of scrabbling with the knob, she opened the door and nearly fell in almost before she consciously knew what she was doing. Once inside, she realized the action was silly – the voice had been in her head and entering a building wouldn't change that.

Sure enough, the voice returned a few seconds later. "_Don't be scared. It's all right._" He said. The tone was calm, and a bit curious. Something about it also seemed slightly familiar...

"_All right?_" she replied, a little anger slipping through. "_A tenth of the population of Earth was killed last week, aliens are roaming the streets – in what way is anything all right_?"

There were no words for a few seconds, but she could feel that the unknown mind was thinking. "_Who _are_ you?_" he repeated. When she didn't answer, he went on. "_Human, yes? Yes, I can tell now, definitely human...although..._" The voice trailed off and she wondered whether he could tell she wasn't quite a normal human. "_Human with natural psychic ability. And you must live in Cardiff._"

"_How do you know _that?" she questioned, surprised at such an accurate assessment.

"_Well, all the best psychics live in Cardiff,_" was the casual response. "_Certain properties of that city help to sharpen psychic control. And you seem to have quite a bit of control. Do you work as a medium?_"

"_I read tarot cards,"_ she answered absently. Certain properties...the Captain had said that living on a Rift in space and time might have increased her psychic ability. Was that what 'certain properties' meant? "_You're _not_ human,_" she added, partly just to prove that he wasn't the only one who could tell such things just through psychic connection. She'd been able to tell that much from the beginning of the conversation – he felt more alien than the spheres did. Yet there was still that sense of familiarity that she couldn't quite place.

"_You don't seem surprised._"

"_I'm not_," she said simply. It reminded her of a snippet of conversation she'd once had with the Captain, so long ago, when he hadn't been surprised that she wasn't aging. And that was when it hit her, why this mind seemed so familiar. She _had_ sensed him before, just never directly. "You're the Doctor! You are, aren't you?" She accidentally spoke the words out loud – nearly shouted, in fact – and broke the mental connection.

Disappointed, she leaned against the nearest wall and reached out, trying to find him again, but there was nothing.

**Please review!**


	29. Chapter 29: TYTNW, day 30

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Doctor Who or Torchwood.**

**A/N: If you haven't noticed, Faith has a thing about names – she doesn't like to use them. Not her own, not Jack's, whatever. For now...just know that she doesn't like using names (there's more to it than that, which I'll explain later, but it's not too important right now. Ok, it's not too important to the story, period – actually, if you're really curious, just ask in a review and I'll tell you).**

**Chapter 29: TYTNW (day 30)**

Everyday for the next three weeks, she tried to reestablish a psychic link with the Doctor. Despite his never being able to respond to her exclamation, she had no doubt as to his identity once she'd realized where she'd sensed him before. It was obvious – he was part of the Captain's fortune. He was the one who was coming, and now he'd come.

Finally, she was able to find him again. "_Doctor_?"

"_You know me_?" he asked, surprised.

"_Yes. I have a friend,_" she took a deep breath, steeling herself to say it. "_Captain Jack Harkness. He's been looking for you."_

"_And now he's found me,_" the Doctor sighed. "_He was probably better off before._" After another sigh, he continued, more briskly. "_So who are you then? What's your name?_"

"_That's...not important,_" she told him shortly. She'd already had to use one name in this conversation, she didn't want to use another. Especially her own. For a moment, she knew that if he wanted to, he could find her name in her head, however deeply she'd buried it. He was a much more skilled psychic than she, of course. But the moment passed and she knew that he wouldn't do that, whether he _could_ or not.

"_I see,_" he said slowly. And then he changed the subject. "_How have you been surviving the Toclafane?_"

"_They aren't Toclafane!_" she replied in a tone that would've required gritted teeth had they been speaking with mouths. "_I don't know what they are, but 'Toclafane' is a made up word._"

"_Good!_" he said, sounding very impressed. "_Very good! How did you know that? You're absolutely right, but how did you know?_"

"_I just know._"

"_Hmm...ok_," he answered. "_So, how _have_ you been surviving?_"

"_I live in a bookstore. They ignore me. They act like I don't exist._"

"_Right... Do you know why?_"

"_No. Do you?_" It was a sincere question. From the way the Captain had spoken about the man, she fully expected he might know more about her situation than she did.

She was not disappointed. "_I might, yeah_," he answered thoughtfully. "_Tell me, Little Miss Psychic: how did you learn to use your ability?_"

She frowned. How had she learned it? What was that supposed to mean? There wasn't a school for such things! "_Practice,_" she said finally. "_Experience. How does anyone learn it?_"

"_Oh, well, you wouldn't know, I suppose,_" he allowed. "_Humans with limited psychic ability are a dime a dozen. Most can't use it, but those who gain can some control often having varying success at telling the future, reading minds, cheap tricks like that. To do what _you've_ done though...that takes talent and usually a bit of training. Training that you don't seem to have ever had._"

"_What have I done?_"

"_You've successfully carried out a conversation with me, for one thing, over a distance of several hundred miles. A link like that can't be made on one end, so it's not just me,_" The Doctor explained. "_Another thing you've done is attuned yourself to Archangel."_

"_The phone network?_" she asked, surprised.

"_It's not just a phone network," _he told her, _"It's sending out a signal through the telephones, a psychic message that makes people believe what the Master wants them to believe."_

"_I never liked Archangel_," she muttered, "_When it came out, I knew it wasn't good."_

"_Exactly!_" She got the idea that, had she been able to see his face, the Doctor would've been grinning. "_You hid from it. And in doing so, you began sending out a psychic signal of your own – evidently subconsciously – that makes you imperceptible to the Toc – to the spheres._ _The Master did the same sort of thing to some degree, to make people see him as Harold Saxon. And I'm trying it myself, now."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because if all goes according to plan -_" Before he could go further, she felt the connection break. This time there was nothing wrong on her end, so it must've been on his. It was good to know he had a plan though.

Sighing, she settled down to wait for the next time he could contact her.

**A/N: Just so you know, this is probably the last of the daily updates. I haven't got any more chapters complete yet and probably won't by tomorrow. Within the week, perhaps? Dunno.**

**Please review!**


	30. Chapter 30: TYTNW, day 32

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or Torchwood.**

**Chapter 30: TYTNW (day 32)**

"_Sorry about that, bit busy over here,_" She opened her eyes as the Doctor began speaking in her head again, two days later. She hadn't been sleeping, of course. She hadn't slept in centuries. Still, it was sometimes nice to pretend, especially now, while everyone else was being put to work in the camps. She wished for the escape that sleep would've brought. "_You said you read tarot cards, right?_"

"_I said so a month ago, yes,_" she clarified. "_I haven't actually done any readings since then. Invasions aren't exactly good for business."_

"_How does it work?"_

Frowning – she would've thought he'd know this sort of thing better than she did – she answered. "_They ask me questions and I look for the answers in the cards."_

"_Do they change?" _When she hesitated, uncertain, he went on. "_The cards. Based on the answer, do they change?"_

"_Of course they change..."_ she said, her frown deepening. _"How else would I see the answer?"_

"_You've never been to a tarot card reader yourself, have you?" _he asked dryly She shook her head before remembering that he couldn't actually see her, but the message went through anyway. "_The cards don't change, normally."_

"_Not for fakes, no."_

"_Not for _anyone_, faking or not," _the Doctor retorted. "_Most tarot card readers aren't really using the cards at all, they just think they are. They use a standard deck and change their interpretation based on the question. _You_, on the other hand, actually _project_ the answer onto the cards – changing the cards themselves based on the situation. Completely different process,"_ Along with this explanation, much of which she couldn't really follow, came the sense of a rather cheeky grin that he'd be wearing if possible.

"_Is any of this really important?"_ she sighed, a little exasperated.

"_Very. This is a concept that the plan wouldn't work without."_

A little unnerved by the dead seriousness of this reply, she inquired, "_So, what _is_ the plan? You never said."_

"_Oh. Right." _He quickly laid it out, talking about a girl named Martha Jones who was currently circling the globe, spreading stories of the Doctor and telling people to all think of him at once. _"By that point, I'll have attuned myself to Archangel and all the humans of the world will be able to send me psychic energy through that._

"_But that's not enough. Even if it works perfectly, all that does is give me six billion people's worth of psychic energy – and what can I do with that? What I need is for all that energy to be converted into other forms – which is exactly what _you_ do with your cards."_

Feeling like she knew where this was going, she asked a little shakily, _"Can't you convert it?"_

"_No. Weeelll, yes, technically I _can_," _he admitted. _"I could convert the energy, but not without devoting most of my attention to it. That would give the Master time to fight back - taking down Archangel would be easiest and he wouldn't need long to figure that out. We can't allow him to have that time."_

"_You want me to convert it then? Do you think I can?"_

"_Do you think you can't?"_

She thought about that for a minute. "_Well, I've never done it deliberately before. And this isn't changing the picture on a card, after all – you're talking about directing the psychic energy of the entire population. Six billion people."_

"_Most of them won't contribute much. Psychic ability is deeply buried in the majority of humans." _The Doctor told her encouragingly. "_And once you've worked with one bit of energy you've worked with them all – doing a lot at once isn't any different than doing a little. It just takes more concentration."_

"_I can concentrate."_

"_Good."_

"_Why do you trust me?"_ she asked suddenly. It had been something she'd been wondering since he'd not hesitated before telling her his plans. "_You've never even met me, I wouldn't tell you my name...you don't have any reason to believe I'm trustworthy."_

"_You know Jack."  
_

"_So I say. What makes you think it's true? And even if it is, I'm sure he knows plenty of people who aren't trustworthy just for that reason."_

"_Jack's immortal. If you come in contact with an immortal, it leaves a mark – I can fell that, in you, so I know you _have _met him. As to why that makes you trustworthy though...to consciously establish a link like this one, as you have done twice now, it requires trust. Whatever Jack's told you about me, apparently you believed him."_

"_So...you trust me, because I trust him?" _she said, confused.

"_Basically, yes," _he replied simply. "_Also, do you know how few untrustworthy people would bother arguing against their own trustworthiness?_"

Smiling at that, she shook her head and decided to change the subject. _"How is he?" _The question was asked reluctantly. She knew all too well how he was and didn't like it at all. Still, the near constant pain she was getting from him was mixed with stabs of what she could only compare to laughter. Which didn't make any sense.

"_I told you, he was better off before he found me again,"_ the Doctor said bitterly. _"The Master enjoys experimentation. And Jack can't die."_

She balled her hands into fist in fury at the implications behind his statement. He didn't need to say anything else. "_How long?"_

"_Hm?"_

"_How long before the count down? How long will it be before we can stop him?"_ she said, teeth clenched tightly.

"_Eleven months."_

"_I'll be ready."_

**Please review!**_  
_


	31. Chapter 31: TYTNW, day 65

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or Torchwood.**

**Chapter 31: TYTNW (day 65)**

Eleven months. Well, ten, now. It wasn't so long to wait, right? Less than a year. A year had never felt this long, not in her memory. Years flashed by like not time at all, normally. Just not this one. Finally, she could stand it no longer. Her patience, her everlasting patience had now run out, and she felt that she _had_ to do something – even if her part in ending the terror would not be for months to come.

Cautiously, she opened the door of the bookstore for the first time since inadvertently contacting the Doctor two months before. The streets, as before, were empty. There weren't even any spheres nearby.

The sun was setting, meaning that people would be returning home after working in the labor camps. Without really knowing why, she headed toward the nearest residential area. She arrived on the first street of houses just as the last of the people there were herded indoors by the spheres. Even as the last door closed behind them, the spheres flew off, deserting the neighborhood to silence once more.

"Psst! Little girl!"

She turned at the hiss, to see a woman, perhaps in her sixties, ushering her over urgently. "Are you _mad_? Do you _want_ to get yourself killed?" The woman questioned in a furious whisper as she approached. "Likely you'll get us _all_ punished, wandering around after curfew like that!"

"I-I'm sorry -" she started, but found herself being pulled inside roughly.

"_Don't_ let it happen again!" The woman said sharply. "You'll have to stay here tonight. What's your name?"

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. The Captain had long ago accepted a non-answer to that question, and so had the Doctor more recently. She got the distinct idea that this woman would not be so accommodating. "Rose," she said after a moment, giving the first female name that came to mind. "Rose Tyler."

"Well, Miss Tyler, why did your parents let you - "

"I don't have parents," she interrupted. "Never have. I take care of myself." If her tone was a bit cutting...well, she'd long been tired of people treating her like a child.

"Oh, leave the girl alone, Mrs. Turner," a new voice spoke. It was only then that she realize the woman's house was, in fact, packed with people. Looking around, she saw that everyone had been watching the exchange in silence, expressions lax – and none of them looked like they had just spoken. At first, she thought it was just apathy, but looking more closely, she could see terror in all their eyes. They were scared of her, she didn't think, just in general.

Even the woman who had called her in had the same expression – the terror just manifested itself differently in her. "Archangel..." she muttered. This was caused by the still-functioning satellite network, of course.

Mrs. Turner crossed her arms. "How can you take care yourself, especially now?"

"I'm a storyteller. A fortune teller," she answered, trying to spark interest by sounding mysterious. I tell stories of the future."

"Ah, what rubbish!" Mrs. Turner cried, throwing her hands in the air and turning away.

"What stories?" It was the same voice that had told Mrs. Turner to leave her alone, but this time she was able to connect a face to it. He was a young man, perhaps in his twenties. He still appeared scared, but now slightly eager as well. "How are they of the future?"

"We don't _have_ a future!" This time it was a little girl who spoke, perhaps ten years old.

"No, no, we _do_ have a future," she said quickly. "It won't be like this forever. One day, the Master will be defeated and the oppression will end."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Mrs. Turner scoffed. "No one can defeat the Master."

"No one with _that _attitude, certainly," she told the woman. "but not everyone _has_ that attitude, lucky for you." Although actually, if Archangel really was keeping people terrified like this, if was all too possible that most people _were _thinking the same way. The Doctor's plan wouldn't work without everyone's cooperation – what if the Master's psychic network was too strong? What if they didn't _have_ that cooperation? "There's a man called the Doctor," she went on finally. "He's the one. He's going to overthrow the Master."

"How?" asked the young man. She smiled at him.

"How? I'll tell you have," glancing up in the Doctor's general direction, she wondered whether Martha Jone's would mind that she was adopting the job of spreading the word. But it was an important job...surely any hellp with that would be to the best?

The story she told was not like her usual fortunes. Those were vague and general and often quite short. This time, she used as much detail as she could manage, talking of who the Doctor was, what he wanted. Considering how brief her contacts with him had been, she didn't know too much, but she used every detail of what she _did_ know to its fullest.

When she finally fell silent, no one spoke for some time. She waited uneasily for Mrs. Turner to denounce the whole thing as 'rubbish' again. She was sure that if that happen, the general feeling would turn toward skepticism. But Mrs. Turner said nothing and overall, she felt the reception to be positive.

When Mrs. Turner did speak, eventually, it wasn't about the story at all. "We should all get to bed. Hard day tomorrow, as ever."

**Please review!**


	32. Chapter 32: TYTNW, day 300

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood or Doctor Who.**

**Chapter 32: TYTNW (day 300)**

"_Doctor_?"

"_What_?" The response was short and sounded a bit irritated. She knew why, though. The Doctor had been devoting more and more concentration to making sure he was ready in time for the countdown in just over two months. She was interrupting that concentration.

"_I know you're busy, and I'm sorry. But...could I talk to the Captain?_" She asked uncertainly. "_Just for a few minutes? We've got a sort of psychic link, but I can't quite reach him by myself from this distance._"

"_Why do you ask _now?" The Doctor grumbled, but he was already working on putting her through.

"_The airship you're on – the...the Valiant? It's been moving all over the world, but right now it's the closet it's been to England. I thought it would be easiest now._"

"_It is_," he admitted. "_All right, you've got five minutes._"

"_Thank you._"

"_What? Who _was _that?_"

She nearly laughed out loud, but refrained from doing so because it might break the connection. Apparently the Doctor had finished bridging their connection in time for the Captain to receive her last words. "_Never mind. It's me._"

"_Ah..._" he said, understanding. "_Wait a minute – where are you?"_

"_Relax, I'm back in Cardiff,_" she told him soothingly, smiling at the concern in his tone. It had been there, she assumed, because normally in order for her to contact him she'd have to be fairly close by. The Valiant was not the best place to be at the moment; though of course, nowhere was really safe anymore. "_We've only got a few minutes. How are you?_"

"_Never been better. You?_"

"_Never been better?_" She repeated, confused. He hadn't even seemed to be sarcastic. "_But he – the Doctor – he said that the Master - _"

"_The Master runs a torture chamber, yes,_" he interrupted. "_But what's that matter? As long as he's got me, he basically ignores Martha's family, and hell, _I_ don't care._" Perhaps he could sense her disbelief. _"Your prophecy came true, right? I've finally found the Doctor and more than a century of waiting is _over_. Nothing the Master can come up with could possibly compare to the torture of having to wait that long._"

"_I see..._" But for once, she didn't really. She didn't understand his thought process here, perhaps because for the past 500 years, the only time she'd ever felt physical pain was through him over the past months. It had seemed unendurable, like there could not possibly be anything worse. Maybe she just wasn't used to it?

"_Now, how are you?_"

"_I'm fine,_" she said absently, then quickly told him about her eventual role in the countdown revolution and how, in the mean time, she was taking over Martha Jones' job in the U.K. for lack of anything better to do. This explanation lasted the rest of their allotted time. "_I should go. The Doctor need to get back to work._"

"_Ok. See ya after the countdown."_

"_Goodbye Captain."_

**A/N: I have an extremely important request. Because my English teacher is awesome, she let me write a fanfiction story for my final project in that class. I have posted it and would really appreciate any feedback that you could give be about it. The story is called "I am Human," and as long as you've seen the Series 7 premiere of Doctor Who...would you go read it please? It's an explanation of my take on how Oswin will become Clara. Thank you!**

**Please review!**


	33. Chapter 33: TYTNW, day 366

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or Torchwood.**

**Chapter 33: TYTNW (day 366)**

"_Are you ready?_"

She wasn't entirely sure that she was. She'd never been more ready _try_ to do something – but was she ready to succeed at it? Despite her uncertainty, she sent him a wordless affirmative; the psychic equivalent of a nod.

"_Good. Martha will return to the _Valiant _in a few hours. From then, I'm guessing we'll only have a few minutes."_

"_Great."_ The response was weak, barely a whisper, even mentally.

"_Are you scared?_"

"_Yes," _she admitted. "_If it doesn't work – what then? What if you're wrong about the countdown completely? You don't know for sure there will even be one. What will happen? The Master takes over the rest of the universe with those rockets?"_

The Doctor didn't answer for a moment. Then, "_It _will_ work. And if I know the Master, there _will_ be a countdown. There's absolutely no reason why anything should go wrong._" If he was lying, if he actually did have doubts about the plan, then he hid it well. "_Now, when the humans' energy comes, it will be focused on me, not you, so in order to work with it, you'll need to be here with me – mentally, of course, not physically."_

"_How?"  
_

"_It's simple. You'll have to strengthen the connection, so we're not just speaking, but actually sharing minds." _He went on to explain how to do this and she had to admit that it didn't seem too difficult. As she prepared to try it, however, he quickly cautioned,_ "Not right now – not yet. Mind sharing is hard to keep up over extended periods of time. Better to wait until just before it's necessary."_

The following hours were the longest of her life. Now that the time was almost here, she wished it would hurry up and be _over_ already, despite the consequences of failure. Which, naturally, seemed to be more and more likely to happen as the minutes passed. _Minutes, _she scoffed, trying to distract herself. _Only last year, that was such a short unit of time. Now they last forever._

Then, finally, something began to happen. "Citizens of Earth: rejoice and observe!" The Master's voice resonated everywhere, speaking to everyone on the planet. "The fleet is ready to launch. Two hundred thousand ships, set to burn across the universe. Three minutes to align the black hole converters!" As he spoke, clocks appear on every digital surface – anything that Archangel could control. They began clicking down from 182 seconds.

"_Just as you said," _she murmured to the Doctor. It gave her hope. Perhaps, if he was right about this, he could be right about everything else. "_Is it time?"_

"_It's time."_

Closing her eyes, she did as he'd instructed earlier and opened herself to the psychic connection completely. For a few seconds, she seemed to be speeding down a dark passage and then, suddenly, she could see again. But not her own surrounding and not through her own eyes. She was looking out at the _Valiant_, through the Doctor's eyes. She could see the Master, the girl she assumed was Martha Jones and a number of others, including -

The Captain.

As she had no control over the Doctor's body and he was focused on the Master, she could only see him out of the corner of the Doctor's eye. He was disheveled and dirty and sending a death glare at the Master, but it was definitely him. She felt a wave of unexplainable relief. After all, she'd known he was here two months ago and, what with his immortality, there was no possibility of him dying in the interim. Still, she was glad to actually see him again.

She turned her attention back to the Master. "And so it falls to me, as Master of all, to establish from this day, a new order of Time Lords. From this day forward - " The Master cut off as Martha started laughing. "Wh – what's so funny?"

Martha Jones raised her eyes to meet his squarely. "A gun?"

"What about it?"

"A gun in four parts scattered across the world? I mean," she seemed on the verge of rolling her eyes. "Come on. Did you really believe that?"

"What do you mean?"

"As if I would ask her to kill," the Doctor interjected. It was strange, to her, to speak without being the one directing the words. She also noticed that the voice was different from the one she'd heard from him previously.

Martha triumphantly told the Master of their plan. It was obvious that she believed it would work – she believed in the Doctor. "I gave them an instruction," she said, getting to her feet. "Just as the Doctor said. I told them that if everyone thinks of one word at one specific time -"

"Nothing will happen!" The Master insisted. "Is that your weapon? Prayer?" His voice was pure incredulity.

"Right across the world, one word, just one thought at one moment – but with _fifteen satellites._"

Finally the Master seemed to realize that he might be wrong. That perhaps the Doctor's plan had some merit after all. "What?"

"The Archangel Network," the Captain told him quietly.

"A telepathic field binding the whole human race together, with all of them, every single person on Earth thinking the same thing at the same time. And that word is 'Doctor.'"

Even as Martha finished her explanation, the clock hit zero. There was no time to wonder how they'd managed to time it so perfectly though, because at that moment, everyone in the world began sending their thoughts in her direction. The intensity of the pure psychic power nearly knocked her back into her own body, but she gained control quickly and converted the first waves of energy into more manageable forms. It vaporized the bars of the cage that'd been confining the Doctor and all excess turned into light, enveloping him in a white glow. She wasn't sure if that had been on purpose, or just conveniently dramatic side effects, but she could feel him deliberately manipulating some energy, rejuvenating himself and changing his form completely.

The Master was arguing, yelling something, but she couldn't use the concentration to determine what it was. The Doctor's voice, however, was clear to her. "Tell me the human race is degenerate now," he said, sounding much more like he had done in her head, as he raised himself into the air. "When they can do _this_."

The energy raged through her – through them both – for less than a minute, and then it was all over. The Master was defeated and the power dispersed. She felt a ragged exhaustion overwhelm her – quite a change from the untiring and sleepless existence she usually had. Though her job was over, she didn't return to her own body – mostly because, while staying in the Doctor's head was hard, it would've taken even more effort to leave.

So, she was with him as the Master died in his arms. He was, she realized, alone in the universe, a one of a kind. Like her, like the Captain. The only person that could've changed that fact for the Doctor was now letting himself die, simply because he knew that was a sort of victory. The Doctor mourned him and she, too, felt the pain loss. She didn't entire understand it – this _was_ his archenemy, after all – but she felt it nonetheless.

**A/N: I tried to use as little dialogue from the episode as possible, since I know you've all seen it. I hope this worked out? Please review. Really, really, please? This story has more chapters than it does reviews - has done for several chapters now - and you do know what that means, right? It means that there is fewer than one review per chapter, on average. Don't you think that's sad? Don't you want to help change that statistic?**

**Please review!**


	34. Chapter 34: TYTNW, epilogue

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or Torchwood.**

**Chapter 34: TYTNW (Epilogue)**

"So, _you_ are Little Miss Psychic." She turned to see a man with wild brown hair sticking up in all directions and wearing a blue pinstriped suit. "We haven't actually met. Weell, not physically, anyway. I'm the Doctor."

She was about the answer – "I know" was on the tip of her tongue, for she'd recognized him immediately – but then he held out a hand. To shake, presumably.

Biting back the words, she recoiled a little reflexively. The barrier against touching had stood between she and the Captain for over a century, unspoken, almost unnoticed. It had been broken only once, in a case of absolute need. Perhaps she'd assumed a similar, unspoken agreement would be formed with someone with whom she'd actually shared minds. Evidently, she'd assumed wrong.

"She doesn't touch."

The Captain had been there the whole time, but for once she'd actually not been aware of him for a time. Her astonishment at this was overwhelmed by her relief at seeing him again, freed from the Master. Without really thinking about it, she closed the distance between them and threw her arms around him.

"Doesn't she?" The Doctor asked and she realized her actions had rather negated what he'd just been told.

"Well, not usually," the Captain amended as she backed away again. The Doctor still looked confused, but she was glad to see that the Captain appeared to understand. The barrier _could_ be broken in cases of absolute need; he knew that as well as she did.

"So no touching, no speaking names...what exactly _do_ you do?" The Doctor inquired.

"I read tarot cards."

"Right!" he cried, demeanor completely switching from confusion to enthusiasm. "Tarot cards, yes! Forgot about that, how goes business?"

"Better, without the Master," she admitted. "Then again, everything is, isn't it?" Too late, she remembered the Doctor's intense sorrow at the Master's death. While she still didn't fully understand the emotion, perhaps it meant she was wrong?"

"Suppose, yeah," was all the Doctor said in response. After a few seconds, he continued briskly. "Anyway, I just came to meet you. You helped save the world and I'm sure – if they could remember it – the world would appreciate that."

He then left, telling the Captain that he'd wait at the Roald Dahl Plass.

"I suppose you're going to leave with him, then?" She asked, watching the Doctor go.

"No." She looked back at him, eyebrows raised and he went on. "No, I'm not. I think he thinks I will – or that I want to, at least. And maybe I do. But I want to stay more."

She nodded, then changed the subject. "Why was he so upset when the Master died?"

"The Master was like the Doctor," he explained. "The same species; a Time Lord. For a long time, the Doctor thought he was the only Time Lord left in the universe. When he learned the Master had survived, he was horrified – they'd been enemies before the rest of them were destroyed. For that though, I don't think the Doctor wanted to be the only one again."

"No one wants that, I think," she murmured. "Still, the things he did..." Chuckling softly, she went on. "The Doctor said that the world would appreciate it, if they could remember what happened. It's just as well they can't, because I didn't do it for them."

"No?"

"No. I did it for you." Grimacing slightly, she asked, "I only agreed to help the Doctor save the world because it would help you...is that terrible?"

He thought about it. "Well, in that case I guess _I_ should be the appreciative one – after all, it's not like the world was _benefited _at all." She smiled reluctantly at the sarcasm. "I think, in this case, your actions were more important that the reasons behind them."

"Perhaps you're right."

"Of course I am," he agreed. "Listen, they're waiting for me. I should go."

She half-raise a hand in a wave as he turned, then said quickly. "Captain?" He looked back. "I wouldn't have blamed you, if you were going to go with him. But I would have missed you."

He smiled. "See ya."

**A/N: Am I the only one who was really, really disappointed when Jack turned down that offer in Last of the Time Lords? He needs to come back to Doctor Who. Not just for the occasional episode (not that they've had any such episodes recently), but like, as a proper companion again. Though I wouldn't, of course, _object_ to his return for only one or two episodes, say for the 50th anniversary finale. If David Tennant comes back for that and John Barrowman doesn't, I will be...I don't want to say disappointed. David Tennant's return would be awesome. But John Barrowman's would be more so.**

**So, next chapter will be the onscreen scene from Dead Man Walking. For the story arc that will follow, Owen is going to be a main character, naturally. However, this story is pretty much set in stone as Faith being the sole narrator and I want a few scenes between just Jack and Owen. To that end, I'm planning to upload a different story which will include a few such scenes; so far, I've got 4 planned. Just a heads up, that won't happen for a couple more chapters.**

**Please review!**


	35. Chapter 35: 2008, part 1

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood - or Doctor Who, either, but this has gone back to being purely Torchwood.  
**

**Chapter 35: 2008, part 1**

Less than half a year after the Year That Never Was, he showed up again. She watched, concerned, as he entered the pub and nearly started a fight within seconds of arrival. He seemed a bit odd, like he was acting on instinct, though she could tell he was very determined in his course of action. Whatever that might be.

"It's all right," she called, calmly breaking up the budding confrontation. "I've been looking forward to seeing the Captain again."

The others let him go reluctantly and she gestured to the seat across from her. "Are you okay?"

"No," he answered quietly. "I'm looking for a glove."

For some reason, the words filled her with dread. "Any glove, or something in particular?" She asked pointlessly. He'd not have come if there weren't something special about the glove. He didn't even bother answering.

Slowly, she laid out her cards facedown on the table. Lifting one revealed a picture of a gauntlet, all made of metal. Now she knew where the dread had come from; she knew that particular glove. "Is this it?" He nodded and she laid the card down.

"Can you see where it is?" He asked urgently.

She could. But she didn't want to. "You'll owe me a favor," she said carefully. It was supposed to be a warning. When had she ever wanted a favor before? If he understand the message – and she felt fairly certain that he did – he paid it no heed.

"Well?" Reluctantly, she lifted another card. "They hid it in a church?"

"No. When the people found out what it could do, they built the church on top of it," she replied, wondering if _ he_ knew what it could do. He must, if he knew to look for it.

He started to leave nearly as soon as she finished. "If I told you not to use it, would you listen?"

"Shouldn't you know the answer to that?"

"I do," she said quietly, though he was gone. Looking down at the next card, she saw the Grim Reaper as expected. "That's the problem."

**A/N: I didn't expect to be able to work on this until the weekend, but then classes were canceled for today. Because of snow, allegedly. I say allegedly, because two of my canceled classes were before snow even started falling and there wasn't much on the ground by the time of the third. Anyway, there actually _is_ a snowstorm going on now...maybe classes will be canceled for tomorrow as well...**

**Please review! It's the beginning of Owen's part in this story, aren't you excited? I certainly am!**


	36. Chapter 36: 2008, part 2

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or Torchwood.**

**Chapter 36: 2008, part 2**

"Faith?" She jumped and turned, eyes wide, to find that the had been the Captain speaking. "Is your name Faith?"

"Please, don't," she said, shuddering, as he sat down across from her. "How did you know?"

"It's online," he shrugged. "Apparently. A friend of mine came across it when we were...dealing with the consequences of the glove."

"I did warn you."

"Yeah. I know," he said. "Is it true then? You're...the girl from the story? They used the glove on you?" For a long stretch of time, she said nothing, not meeting his eyes. Finally, he sighed. "You don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to. I just thought – 500 years? Maybe it would be long enough."

"For you, maybe it would be," she answered. "Not for me."

"Sure." After a pause he said, "You wanted a favor?"

She'd almost forgotten about that and nearly dismissed it now that he brought it up again, saying that the favor had only been an attempt to discourage his question. Then she had a better idea. "I want to meet him," she decided. When the Captain seemed confused, she clarified. "Or her. Whomever you resurrected."

"Owen?"

"If he's the one who was resurrected."

Slowly, he nodded. "All right. I can't see him being too enthusiastic about it, but okay."

"He's just been brought back from the dead. He's not enthusiastic about anything anymore, is he?" she asked and he shook his head. "Perhaps I can help."

"Maybe..." he seemed doubtful. "Could you do something for me though?"

"The last thing I did for you allowed that glove to be used again," she reminded him sharply.

He winced. "Nothing like that. His name's Owen Harper. Can you call him that?"

"I...possibly," she replied slowly, a little confused at the request. "Why? Is it important?"

"Well, not _important_, exactly. It's just...you call me Captain. Owen's title is 'Doctor.'"

She smiled. "I see. I think I can manage 'Owen,' yes."

**A/N: Owen _will_ appear next chapter, I promise. And I've decided against a different story for Jack and Owen chapters, so don't worry about that.**

**Please review! (Pretty please? There were no reviews for the past two chapters and it was sad.)**


	37. Chapter 37: 2008, part 3

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or Torchwood.**

**AN: As a warning, there's a little bit of language in this chapter. Unfortunately, I'm American and learned all my British profanity from this very show. I cannot find any clear answers online as to how bad these words actually are, but going by the expletives in Torchwood that are used by both countries, they could be anywhere from extremely mild to as bad as they come. No idea. Since it's just for this chapter though, I think the rating is ok where it is.  
**

**Chapter 37: 2008, part 3**

"Thirty-six minutes. Not bad."

Owen looked up at Jack, soaking wet and breathing heavily. Or _pretending_ to breath heavily anyway. According to Martha's tests, he didn't actually need to breath anymore – as though spending half an hour underwater hadn't shown that – and the movement was actually just habitual. Jack remember how Faith – she'd never confirmed the name, but never denied it either and it had to be her – Faith sometimes didn't seem to blink enough. Was that another unneeded action?

"You were watching?" Owen asked weakly.

"Skinny guy in tight jeans runs into water? I was taking pictures." Jack heard Owen getting up as he turned away, then looked back. "How long is this gonna go on for, Owen?" Without waiting for an answer, he began to walk away once more, but stopped as before. He hadn't planned on trying to bring Owen to meet Faith until he'd had a little more time to adjust to the idea of being dead, but maybe she was right; maybe she _could_ help him. Right now, that's what he needed. "Owen..."

"What."

"Come with me."

"Go with you where?" Owen asked sharply, almost suspiciously, as he pushed sopping hair off his forehead.

"There's someone you need to meet. An old friend of mine."

"Aw, Jack, I don't wanna meet anyone - " Owen started to complain, but Jack cut him off.

"You just spent more than 30 minutes underwater. If you think that's a better use of your time, then jump back in again!" Owen looked at Jack, then the bay, then back again. "She thinks she can help you."

"Wh – hang on, you haven't told 'er what happened!"

"No," Jack answered truthfully. "Didn't have to. She's psychic."

"Piss off," Owen exclaimed dissmisively.

Jack half-snorted. "You accept aliens and resurrection gauntlets, immortality and living death – but you don't believe that I know psychic ability when I see it? This girl is for real, and she's really good."

"Whatever! I don't care if she's real, I don't care if she's the best one on Earth – I don't _ need_ a bloody psychic!"

Jack sighed. "Too bad. Because you're coming anyway."

**Please review! (And let me know if you know exactly how strong Owen's language was in this chapter...)**


	38. Chapter 38: 2008, part 4

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood.**

**Chapter 38: 2008, part 4**

She wasn't sure how long she had expected convincing this "Owen" to come would take, but she was slightly surprised when they showed up only a day after her request. She was rather excited about the meeting; there'd been no one else like her for 500 years and now there was. Appraising him critically as they approached, she decided that he did not share the sentiment. On the contrary, he seemed to want to be anywhere other than where he was. If he had not _actually_ been brought here by force, then definitely the next thing to it.

When they stopped at her table, she smiled, but Owen looked shocked. He looked from her to the Captain several times, finally spluttering, "A kid?"

She raised her eyebrows at the Captain. _You didn't even tell him that?_ Whether or not he actually understood the words, he got the message and shrugged. "No, she's _not_ a kid," he informed Owen. "Sit down."

Reluctantly, Owen sat. When the Captain turned, however, he was back on his feet again. "Hang on, where are you going?"

"Outside. I'll be by the car," he answered. "It's ok, she doesn't bite, as far as I know." Grinning at Owen's outraged expression, he left.

"Was there a reason for that? Owen grumbled as he sat back down again.

"Yes," she answered and his eyes snapped to meet hers. "I wanted to speak with you alone."

"He didn't say - "

"No, he didn't know," she interrupted. "Not 'til just now, that is."

"But...but you didn't say anything either!" Owen protested.

Sighing, she shut her eyes briefly. "I'm psychic."

"Right. _That_ he mentioned." He rolled his eyes. "But even if you are, _he's_ not. How's that work?"

She shrugged, half-expecting that to be enough of an answer. With the Captain, it would've bee, though obviously this particular question wouldn't have even been asked. Owen only kept staring expectantly and she realized he would actually need the answer put into words. "I have a sort of...psychic connection with him. We can sometimes share mental activity – thoughts, feelings."

"Right..." Owen repeated, sounding more skeptical than before.

"Would you...like a reading?" she asked after a short, uncomfortable pause. It occurred to her that she really had no idea what she was trying to accomplish here or how she was supposed to accomplish it.

"A what?"

"A reading. Tarot cards." She held up the deck. "It's what I do."

He sighed heavily. "Fine. Whatever."

With that vote of enthusiasm, she laid a row of three cards face down on the table, as usual. When she turned them over, however -

"They're blank," said Owen suspiciously. "What sort of tarot card are these? Why are they blank?"

She stared at the table, open-mouthed, for a few seconds. Experimentally laying out a few more, she only got more blank cards. "Oh..." she murmured, realizing the problem. "You're dead. Of course I can't read your future – you're dead."

"That or you run a really lousy business," he muttered under his breath, but she heard him.

"What do you think, exactly, that I carry around a deck of blank cards?" She asked with an unexpected amount of heat. "These _usually_ have pictures on them. They only don't right now because I was trying to read the future of a dead man."

"Will you _stop saying_ that?" Owen nearly yelled.

"Sorry," she said quietly and he seemed to calm some. Well, a little. "But I thought you came here for help and - "

"No, I came here 'cause Jack bloody made me!" This time, he really was shouting. "And it doesn't even matter, because this is all pointless. Even if I wanted help, which I don't, there's no one who _can_ help me – least of all you!" He continued, but she stopped listening to the words.

She closed her eyes, thinking back over the centuries, trying to remember what it had been like in the beginning. Had she reacted like this – or would she have, given the chance? Possibly, but she couldn't really remember. The time when she really had been a child was too far gone and too long hidden in her own memory.

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly, breaking into Owen's rant. "You're right. I thought I could help you, but I was wrong." She hesitated, then repeated the unusual phrase. "I was wrong."

Without another word, she stood and nearly ran out of the bar, leaving Owen to stare after her. The Captain was not far outside the building and she approached him slowly.

"What happened?" he asked, sounding almost resigned.

"Five hundred years. That's what happened. I said it wasn't long enough?" She shook her head. "It was _too_ long ago. I can't relate to him, Captain. I can't help him. I'm sorry."

**Please review!**


	39. Chapter 39: 2008, part 5

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood.**

**A/N: In response to a question I got in a guest review, Owen was _not_ there during Jack and Faith's conversation at the end of last chapter.**

**Also, just a quick note on people who leave questions in anonymous reviews: unless you also give an actual username (as Dark Goddess of Shadows does), asking me a question in a guest review is very nearly pointless, as I can't answer you directly – which is oddly a bit annoying. If someone asks me a question, I do like being able to answer it and feel unsatisfied if I can't. I say it's nearly pointless (rather than completely), because it does have one use, and that's to show me where there might be confusion. **

**Ok, rant over, here's the chapter...**

**Chapter 39: 2008, part 5**

"Well, _that_ was the most useless meeting of my life. And come to think of it, my death, too," Owen said as Jack drove them back to the Hub. "Seriously, what was the point? Why'd you want me to meet her, exactly?"

Jack shrugged. "Actually, _I_ didn't."

"Could've fooled me! Why were you so insistent about it then?"

"_She_ wanted to meet you, not me. It was her idea," he explained.

"And you just do whatever she wants, is that it?"

"She's an old friend of mine. Besides, she thought she could help." Jack glanced at Owen, who was glaring back. "You _need_ help Owen, whether you want to admit it or not. And she normally knows things like that."

"Yeah, yeah, psychic and all that," Owen said a bit impatiently. "Ill accept that just because, well, because I don't care right now, but what I don't get is you've twice now called her an old friend. You talk like you've known her for years. She can't be older than twelve!"

"She _looks_ like she can't be older than twelve," Jack corrected. "Looks aren't everything. How old do _I_ look?"

"That's different, isn't it? You're...you."

They pulled up to the Hub as he spoke and Jack appraised Owen thoughtfully. "What did Martha say about aging? For you, I mean."

"She said I wasn't gonna," Owen answered absently. "Why?" Jack only grinned at him and got out of the car. Owen should be able to put some pieces together from that, if he tried. Hurriedly, Owen vacated the vehicle as well. "Wait, why? Jack, who _was _that girl? Jack!"

**Please review!**


	40. Chapter 40: 2008, part 6

_**Forever Constant**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood. **

**A/N: To be clear, the last few chapters happened during A Day in the Death, but this one is set after that episode. Owen found the hope-thing, so he's not depressed anymore.**

**Chapter 40: 2008, part 6**

About a week later, Owen returned, by himself this time.

"Hello?" she asked uncertainly. "You're back."

"Hello. Yeah, I am." He spoke succinctly and then fell silent, staring at her intently. Slightly confused, she stared back, and for a short time, neither of them even blinked. "Jack wouldn't say exactly who you are," Owen finally said. "But he dropped enough hints. Too old for you face, psychic – knowing about and better understanding my condition than I do. Your her, yeah? The girl from the legend. Faith." She didn't flinch as he said the name. For some reason, unlike with the Captain, she didn't find his use of it horrifying. "If so, it means you...you're like me."

She pursed her lips briefly, then said, "Yes."

"So is it true?"

Frowning, she began, "I just said - "

"I heard what you said. If you're Faith, then you're like me, 'cause Faith was. I don't need confirmation on that, it's a fact." Owen leaned forward in his chair. "I want to know if it's true. Are you Faith?"

"Yes," she repeated after a long moment. He seemed to want more, so she reluctantly added, "My name is Faith."

"From the legend?" He pressed, and she nodded. She didn't actually know this legend, but it was evidently accurate enough for the connection to be made. Owen sat back again, crossing his arms and saying, almost smugly, "I don't believe you."

"What!?"

"You couldn't be her," he said seriously. "The little girl in that story died in the 15th century of the Black Death. Now, if they used the glove on you, I could believe you still look so young after all that time. _However_, I'm a doctor. If you were the living corpse of a Plague victim, I'd be able to tell it by looking at you. You're _not_." He'd surprised her with a fairly logical reasoning. Fundamentally flawed, but logical nonetheless.

"Your legend said I died of the Great Mortality?" she raised her eyebrows incredulously. Perhaps it was not exactly accurate after all. "You need a better source then. The Plague didn't kill me. I drowned."

Owen appeared to be slightly thrown by the revelation, but he recovered quickly. "Ok, sure. Historical error, perfectly understandable. Now that I think about it, I'm not sure it actually gave a cause of death, we just assumed with the context...whatever. It still doesn't explain your complete lack of injuries. More than five hundred years old and your face and hands are unmarked by it."

She couldn't help a wry smile. "You're complaining that my face is unblemished – rather than asking a more obvious question? Owen, I haven't got a drop of blood in my veins anymore. Why am I not white as marble?"

"Well...I assume - "

"You assume I use make-up, because that's what you do," she broke in. "Is it such a stretch to realize I might have some cover-up for cuts?"

"No broken bones, though?" he asked skeptically. "No major accidents before you realized what was wrong?"

"I'm careful," was her sharp response. Then, more quietly, she added. "Also, you haven't been dead long enough, but our injuries do heal. Given time. Lots of time."

"You're making this up!"

"I am _not_!" she protested. Then she decided there was a more direct way to convince him. "You're a doctor. All right...take my pulse." And she held out her arm. As he felt for the non-existent evidence of a heartbeat, she added, "You're lucky by the way. I don't usually let people touch me."

"Of course not. You'd be cold, just like me, but I can't feel that." He dropped her wrist. "Interesting, isn't it? What still works and what doesn't in this living death state. Pressure, but not pain or temperature. I can take a pulse – or lack thereof – but I can't check for fever. Good thing about the pressure though or we'd never function like this."

She noted he was including her in his musings and smiled. "So you believe me now?"

"Sure. There are ways to fake not having a pulse, but really, why would you? The no injuries thing still seems a bit suspicious, but I think I'd be more confused by an elaborate attempt to convince me that you're a dead girl from 500 years ago when you're not. What'd be the point?" After a brief pause, he asked, "So, what really happened?"

"What?"

"When you were resurrected. You said I needed a better source, and what's better than a firsthand account? What really did happen?"

**A/N: When Owen said that he didn't remember if the legend said how Faith died, he is quite right. Or at least, while describing it, Gwen never said as much. "When they heard about the Plague, they built a wall around the town. Unfortunately, that didn't prevent a little girl from dying." Likewise, Ianto only talked about the girl who died; neither mentioned a cause of death.**

**The next chapter will be the story of Faith's origins, but it probably won't be for awhile. I've been planning on such a chapter for months, but as of now I have no idea what exactly is going to go into it.**

**Please review!**


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